I work in publishing and I like to read things. Herewith: free association on books, nice things I ate, publishing, editing, and other nice things I ate.

Friday, May 16, 2008

YT had a little episode.

I've had a very, very exhausting week. I've either had work functions or good-bye parties or emergency karaoke episodes that have kept me out until midnight every night, plus, you know, work, and a rather exhaustive facebook-updating regimen. So, knowing I had another function tonight I had to go to and that I was exhausted and cranky, my sister (Space Alien) invited me to her house to take a nap. Unfortunately, she did not realize how soon I would be over. There was a little chore she meant to take care of before I got to her house, but I caught her on her way out the door.

The chore was this: one of her horrible roommates, who has now moved out and will never be spoken to again because she's so horrible, had a pet mouse for the last year that apparently she decided she couldn't be bothered to take with her when she moved away. My sister was left with the mouse, a very sweet overfed thing (it is approximately pear shaped) with black fur and little pink ears. Her plan had been to release it into the "wilds" of Tribeca, because no animal deserves to be caged and it could join its mouse brethren that run so happily free beneath the city, yadda yadda.

I like to think it was my exhaustion, or maybe it's that over the last few years I've come to identify with my ratvatar a little too closely? Because when I finally caught on to Spacey's plan I had a total meltdown. I begged her not to put it in a bush outside a restaurant, because it would immediately die. She rolled her eyes and opened the box and shook. The mouse clung to the sides and then the top of the box, because he clearly saw the certain death before him, poor fat thing.

This caused me to burst into tears. Spacey was like, "You're just pretending to cry, right? RIGHT? Oh my gosh. You are ridiculous." Spacey ran away, I chased her down, shouting "Nooo! You hypocrite!! How can you feel guilty about EATING animals but not about condemning an innocent pet to certain death?!" and passersby tried not to look at us. She refused to let me take the mouse home with me. "You hate mice," she said. "Someday, when you choose to get a pet of your own free will, I will support you in your choice. I'll even come and help you pick it out. But I'm not going to let a pet be forced on you by my dumb roommate." It got pretty ugly.

Finally, after much public emoting, she agreed to walk down and over the highway overpass to Battery Park City, where perhaps the mouse could dwell in relative yuppiness among the carefully manicured lawns of that extraordinarily clean place. Sapce Alien shook the mouse loose, after much protest on his part (which inspired much further protest on mine, and possibly what the neighborhood watch would deem a "public disturbance"), and he sat in the middle of the bed of woodchips, washing his little paws.

The rally monkey, who is always most helpful in situations like these, was retained on the cellphone as an adviser. He had such reassuring things as "You're making some hawk really happy. You might as well have stuck an apple in its mouth. Nicely done" to say.

I must now spend the rest of evening recovering from this intensely traumatic experience.

Space Alien has asked me not to blog about this (but I choose not to respect her wishes). "All your blog friends are going to think I'm a horrible bitch," she said. YOU BE THE JUDGE.

Oh, my. Coming from a ranching family, I might have a very callous outlook according to some people. However, I have been known to rescue mice and flee with them to safety or as safe as a mouse can be in the wilds.

I'm not sure why Space Case wouldn't let you have the mouse. I wouldn't think their lifespan is that long, especially fat ones. Who knows, the relationship might have spawned some unique friendship, outlook on life, benefit? I pretty much believe animals seldom come into our lives by accident.

On the plus side, this one really didn't come into your life, it just sort of waved.

Mice are remarkably adaptive. He/she may do quite well and find other little mouse friends.

Reminds me of the joke about the guy who brought home some lobsters for his wife to cook. She couldn't stand the thought of cooking them alive so she took them to the woods to set them free.

The poor mouse. I once found a dying mouse outside my house. I'm sure he'd probably gotten into poison, but I felt so sorry for him I brought him inside and put him in a shoe box on a pile of tissues so at least he'd be comfortable and warm. Maybe I'm a schmuck, but I hate to see animals suffer and most definitely couldn't take something that had been raised as a pet and set it out to fend for itself. Sniff.

I would have figured it was merely food for something. An animal raised in a cage has no fear and no experience to help it survive. I'd have let you have the mouse, but honestly, that mouse would have had a better chance in the first place you mentioned. I don't have a whole lot of sympathy for what basically is the bottom of the food chain. Rodents breed like, well, bunnies, because that's what they do: feed the world, basically.

Tell Spacey that she is my type of girl and no she is not a bitch because I would have done the same thing. Wait, I am a bitch. Ok, let me amend, she is probably a bitch, but that is a good thing! Seriously, I have a thing about rodents. I cannot stand them. But you are sweet to care so much about vermin.

OK - but what a crappy ex-roommate your sister had! People like that really piss me off!

Oh my god, I would have been bawling too!! Seriously, anytime there is an animal about to be tossed out CONTACT ME. I am not kidding, I am the queen of finding homes for animals and I would have taken the mouse home with me!!

MY WIP is about a mouse. A magical mouse named Wink. He's named Wink because his cheeks are so fat, they squish his eyes into permanent winks. He has two dimples and a long tale. A short fat body and soft, furry ears.He's 12 in human years but pretends to be 60, so he carries a cane and wears a vest with a handkerchief tucked into the pocket. His speech is old-English, and he's the cutest critter you'll ever see.

when domesticated animals are set 'free', they die. They aren't prepared to fend for themselves when they've been brought up in a cage, with everything provided! Aren't there any shelters where you live?? Couldn't she at least have posted online for someone to come adopt him? It wouldn't have taken much effort on her part. Sure it wasn't her responsibility, but it wasn't the mouses fault he was left with her, either! Hopefully he didn't suffer much.

oh whatever. if it was in your house, you would all put out a trap and snap its neck. being eaten by a racoon doesn't seem like a great way to go but neither does dying fat and alone in a shoebox. at least this way mousey had a chance at an exciting last day on earth. i understand your sadness but let's give spacerat or whatever her name is a bit of a break here.

I disagree. There's a huge difference between a pet mouse and a wild mouse. And for the record, I had mouse problems in one place I rented, and I found ways to get rid of them OTHER than poisoning or trapping.